


Where the Wayward Tread

by ErinPaige1995



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angels, Big Brother Dean, Big Brother Sam, Bisexual Character, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Little Sisters, M/M, POV First Person, POV Original Female Character, Self Confidence, Self-Acceptance, Sibling Love, Soulmates, Winchester Sister
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinPaige1995/pseuds/ErinPaige1995
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucy Winchester had always had a desire to be a hero, and a craving for adventure. Her career as a hunter satisfied this need. But when her father goes missing and she and her brothers team up to find him, she soon realizes her "abnormal" life isn't all it's cracked up to be as her and her family's lives start to spin out of control. With an endless stream of conflicts thrown at the Winchester siblings, Lucy could have never suspected what her future contained. Sisfic. Gabriel/OC, Destiel eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I have actually had this story posted on Fanfiction.net for a long while now, and have almost 30 chapters of it published! But, I decided to make a profile on here because I've always wanted to but have always been too lazy. But this is my Winchester sister adaption, and I'm very proud of how far it's come! This character popped into my mind when I finished watching the show back in January 2013, and she’s managed to become one of my most prized characters. I just couldn’t resist writing about her! I genuinely put so much of my heart and soul into it. Every bit of support is appreciated! But I do hope you give it a try—the first chapter’s a bit slow, but once you get past the Pilot, it’s gonna start to kick up :) I don’t like to waste a lot of time describing and following filler hunts that we already know all about, so this story’s not really hunt-centric—it’s more about the Winchesters struggles as the seasons go on.
> 
> Though this story's family-centric, there is gonna be some romance--I promise! It won't be immediately, and with Destiel, it's mostly likely going to be mentioned more than anything. I'm following the main plot, so it's going to be as canon as I can make it. But trust me, the love story between Lucy and Gabriel is beautiful, fun, hilarious and painful as fuck. It's worth looking forward to.

  
This motel room was crappy, tiny and dirty, just like all the rest. It was somewhere in the middle of Nevada, where the air was just as dry as everything in the area, and the late fall weather was barely more than a slight chill. The motel that my brother and I had picked out this time had a particular raunchy smell to it that I was really growing sick of after three days cooped up in the tiny room. We wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for our stupid father unexpectedly disappearing on a hunt. I mean, he left us alone a lot, but not nearly for this long. I sat on the edge of my temporary bed, I picking at the hem of my old jacket as I scrolled on my phone, attempting to pick up clues as to what my dad had been hunting. He had been gone for about two weeks now. Normally he would have called Dean or me by now, but we had heard absolutely nothing from him, and we were starting to worry. We knew our dad could handle himself, but two weeks was far too long.

I tore my eyes away from my phone as my brother walked into the hotel room, looking disgruntled and frustrated. “Any luck?” I asked, tucking a strand of my long blonde hair behind my ear.

Dean sighed, throwing bag which I knew contained different weapons on the table. “None,” Dean replied. “Two weeks, no sign except for that voicemail. He’s gone.”

“I just don’t understand. Why hasn’t he called? What if he got hurt or something?” I said, gnawing on my bottom lip.

My brother nodded silently. “I know, Luce, I know.” He grabbed two beers out of a pack from the fridge, opening one for himself and tossing one to me. “That’s why we’re going to look for him. I say we leave within the hour, take a little road trip to California, and start out there.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Why California? We gonna go to Disneyland?”

“You wish,” Dean smirked, sipping his beer. “I figured maybe we can pay Sammy a little visit. Who knows, maybe he’ll help us look.”

I frowned, shaking my head. “Sam doesn’t want anything to do with us, Dean. Remember? He gave us up a long time ago?” I said, my voice melancholy. “Not to mention, it’s Halloween. He’s probably with all his rich preppy college buddies, sipping their Champaign and having a grand old time without us. You know, I bet they’re even gonna go trick-or-treating…pretentious douchebags…” I added sarcastically, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“But blood’s still thicker than water,” Dean countered, ignoring my ranting. “No matter what’s happened in the past, he’s not gonna bail out on us when one of us might be hurt. He’s not that much of a heartless dick. Even if it’s just for a while, he’ll come with us.”

I smiled bitterly. “And then he’ll leave us again.” Dean couldn’t reply, and instead just shrugged. “Okay, I guess it’s worth a shot. As long as we find Dad.”

An hour later, we were heading out into the parking lot to Dean’s precious deep black ’67 Impala. It had previously belonged to our father, and was eventually passed along to Dean. Dean considered the car a part of the family, and loved it like his own child. I adored the car as well, as it contained many of my family’s fondest memories. But I wasn’t too fond of spending hours on end cramped up in the passenger seat, which actually took up a lot of my time. Dean and I passed the first Stanford University sign at around one in the morning, and twenty minutes later we pulled into the student apartment buildings. I raised my eyebrows at my oldest brother skeptically.

“We haven’t seen him in four years, and you’re just going to break into his house at one thirty in the morning?” I questioned.

“Got any better plans?” he retorted.

I sighed. “You go in, I’ll wait out here.”

I watched as my brother picked the front door lock and entered the house. I waited, often checking my surrounds impatiently. You could never be too careful; especially knowing what lurks in the dark and the shadows of the night. Ten minutes later, two figures emerged from the house. I couldn’t help the small smile that formed on my face. Sammy had grown taller, if that was possible. He looked good. Strong, independent…happy. The opposite of me and Dean. When Sam noticed me, I smirked at the look of surprise that crossed my other brother’s face. “Lucy?” Sam said, attempting a grin at me.

“Hi Sammy,” I greeted quietly, my grudge temporarily gone.

“Jesus, you’ve grown up.”

My smirk turned sarcastic. “Funny what four years can do huh?” The slightest expression of guilt on Sam’s face sparked some sort of satisfaction in me. I knew that was wrong, and mean, but I couldn’t avoid the feeling. I loved my brother—so much—but he had, in his own way, betrayed us. My father and my brothers were my rock; probably the only people I loved and cared about. Sam left when I was 15 years old. In my eyes, he had abandoned us—abandoned me. And for what? To go off to some fancy school where he could get away from his family, the three people that should have mattered most to him? Call me a horrible person, but that’s how I saw it. I think my father saw it that way too.

I barely listened as Dean explained to Sam what our father had gone after and fidgeted with a small unloaded gun, twirling it around in my hands. Dean played Sam our father’s voicemail, significant because it contained an EVP—one that said “I can never go home”.

“Sounds like some creepy spirit to me—maybe a vengeful one,” I commented, taking the recorder from my brother. Dean nodded.

“At least that’s what we’re thinking,” he said. Sam bit his lip and silently agreed. With no other response, Dean continued, “You know, in almost four years, we’ve never bothered you, never asked for anything.”

“We could really use you out there, Sammy,” I spoke softly. Sam sighed, and for a moment—just a short moment, I was almost positive that he was going to decline. And Dean and I would be on our own once again. Finally, Sam turned back to us and nodded.

“All right, I’ll go. I’ll help you find Dad. But I have to get back first thing Monday, okay?”

My eyebrow rose. “Why first thing Monday?”

Sam paused before replying. “I have an interview.”

“Like a job interview? Skip it,” Dean said. Sam put on one of his famous bitchfaces that I was so used to seeing. Funny enough, I missed them, and I almost smiled as I realized he was exactly the same.

“No, it’s a law school interview. My entire future on a plate,” he shot back.

Dean and I exchanged a puzzled look. “Wait, seriously?” I questioned, astonished. I briefly recalled Sam telling me something like that a long time ago. His hopes and dreams to maybe break free of our unusual life and do something boring like become a lawyer or a police officer. I never thought he’d follow through with it.

“Yes, seriously, Luce,” Sam said, stopping me from challenging him again. “We have a deal?” Neither I nor Dean answered, and Sam retreated back into his house to give a goodbye to his girlfriend, a pretty young woman named Jessica.

I scoffed, shaking my head as soon as Sam was out of hearing range. “I can’t believe this.”

“Sammy the Lawyer. Never thought I’d hear that,” my brother added, also shaking his head. However, he had a small smile. I was solemn.

“Told ya he’s gonna leave us. As soon as this is all over, he’s racing back here to become some fancy douche law official.”

Dean wrapped an arm around my shoulders, kissing me on the temple. “Look, I know you miss him. Hell, I miss him too. But let’s be honest here, I really wasn’t expecting much. I’m just glad as hell he’s coming with us this time.” I shrugged, leaning into my brother.

“I just want him back for good,” I whispered, looking into my brother’s identical green eyes. Dean didn’t reply. The front door opened and Sam shuffled out of his house carrying a small duffel bag. Just enough for a few nights. “Right, I’m taking a nap. Wake me when you need me.” I slid into the backseat of the Impala and pulled my Ipod from my duffle, stuffing the headphones into my ears. I closed my eyes and let the music of Coldplay wash over me. I fell asleep as the Impala sped off into the darkness, quietly content that the three of us were once again together.

* * *

 

I was startled awake when Dean had yanked the headphone from my ear. My eyes met the glaring morning sun and I was forced to squint as I sat up. “Wakey wakey eggs and bakey,” I heard Dean’s over enthusiastic voice say, rather close to my ear.

“I hate you,” I mumbled, which came out as an incoherent grumble.

“You fill up the tank, I’ll get you coffee, deal?” my brother said, handing me a card. Grudgingly, I nodded and slid out of the Impala with the motivation of coffee. As I began to fill the car with gas, I saw Sam in the passenger seat, flicking through old music tapes that had belong to our dad. I half smiled as Sam scoffed at each choice.

“So, Dean still hasn’t grown out of the 70’s, has he?” Sam asked me, a slight teasing tone in his voice.

I smiled back with a slight shake of my head. “You mean all the glam rock with big hair?” I snorted. “Not a chance. I swear if he makes me listen to that damn ACDC album one more time…” My brother and I shared a laugh. It almost brought me back to the old times. All four of us together again—laughing as we listened to those bands I despised while we shot off down the road to our next destination.

Sam’s smile dropped slightly as he met my eyes. “I still can’t believe how grown up you are. I mean—I’m not trying to sound like a proud parent on graduation day but—wow. You’ve grown up so much.”

I kept my smile and my brother’s gaze. “Thanks for making me feel old, dorkface,” I teased. Sam laughed. “Good or bad?”

Sam paused. “Still trying to decide I guess.”

When Dean returned, I gratefully snatched my cup of coffee (black with Irish crème—Dean knew exactly how I drank my caffeine) and stashed the bags with our ‘breakfast’ in the middle seat to be snacked on along the way. I placed myself in the middle backseat, leaning forward enough to be able to hear my brothers and rest my chin on the front seat.

“I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection,” Sam started, and when Dean questioned him, he replied, “Well for one, they’re cassette tapes. And two, it’s the greatest hits of mullet rock."

I snorted, prompting Dean to swivel around to glare at me. “Taking his side now?”

“Dean, I’ve literally been telling you the same thing for 6 years,” I shot back, my lips raised in a mocking half smile.

“Huh, well. House rules my dear Sammy and Lucy Bean. Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts their cake hole,” Dean retorted, popping in one of the tapes. I made a point to groan and roll my eyes when the loud rock music started blaring through the speakers.

“You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam okay?” Sam called over the music.

“Sorry can’t hear you, music’s too loud.”

“Enjoy the ride, Sammy,” I added. I squeezed my brother’s shoulder.

* * *

 

It seems like we had just gotten into the town of Jericho when we spotted police cars gathered on a bridge. A crime scene of some sort. Suspicious, to say the least. Dean dug out three fake IDs and the three of us strode up together to the crime scene. We of course took some time to listen in on the cops’ conversation and the evidence they had retained so far. We knew that this was possibly what our dad wanted us to find.

When Dean broke into their conversation, the police examined us closely. “And who are you?” In a quick motion, Dean and I flashed our IDs.

“Federal Marshalls,” I answered him. “We were told about the evidence here.”

“You three are a little young to be Federal Marshalls aren’t you?” said the deputy.

Dean laughed it off. “Thanks. That’s awfully kind of you. So there’s been others like this correct?”

We fell into our normal routine—impersonate some form of law official and gain as much information from the skeptical investigators or witnesses we could. From the interrogation with the cops, we learned that basically nothing was known about the case. I wasn’t too keen on trusting cops. My family and I were practically felons, with our fake IDs and cards and unfailing ability to get in trouble. And you know what? At the end of the day, we still did our job better than the cops. It wasn’t until after we had talked to the victim’s girlfriend when we started to put the pieces together. She and her friend had told us about a local legend. It seemed to fit, and it definitely was in our division. By research, we had discovered a woman named Constance Welsh, all leading up to my original theory of it indeed being the work of a vengeful spirit or a ghost.

I had almost forgotten what it was like to be around both Sam and Dean at the same time. They loved each other, yes, that was absolutely true. We all did. But my brothers were known to fight. A lot. And every single time I was the one to break it up. Even when I was younger I had been yelling at my older brothers to “shut it or I’ll shut it for you”. Basically, right from the get-go they had gotten into another one of their obnoxious fights. Four years, and nothing changes. Unbelievable. We had made some progress on locating Dad, as we had found an old motel room in which he had stayed in, along with his journal he had left behind. He was on the same case, and he, like Sam, had figured it out as well. In his journal, he left us coordinates. We were one step closer to finding him.

As usual, we Winchesters solved the case. I wasn’t ashamed to admit—we were damn good hunters. Now we drove through the night, viewing the maps and information our father had given us with his journal. “Okay, this is where Dad went,” Sam stated, pointing to a black dot he made. “Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

“Ooooh sounds haunting. Where is it?” I asked, peering over Sam’s shoulder.

“About 600 miles away from here.”

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning,” Dean said. I frowned at my brother, sparing a quick glance towards Sam.

“Dean. Sam’s interview. Tomorrow’s Monday morning,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, guys, I just…” Sam began.

“Sam, don’t. We get it,” I responded. However, my voice was laced with disappointment and my green eyes turned melancholy once more.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll take you home,” my oldest brother stated in a similar tone. Sam nodded, his expression portraying guilt, but sticking firm to his word. We drove on in silence for a while after that, with really nothing more to say to each other.

“Shit, Luce!” Dean barked suddenly. Both Sam and I jumped at the sudden sound. “Goddamnit I can’t believe I forgot! _Shit_!”

“ _What?_ ” I exclaimed, suddenly startled.

“Your birthday,” Dean replied. “It was yesterday. Like, man, I know you’ve been saying you’re 19 for a month now but now you really are and _shit_ , Luce, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, shit Lucy I forgot too,” Sam said, exasperation now in his voice.

I raised both of my brows—and started to laugh. “Guys…it’s fine. I really don’t care,” I replied, giggles falling from my lips. When my brothers started to argue, I cut them off quickly. “Seriously guys, it doesn’t matter. So I’m 19-for-real. Big whoop. I don’t give a shit. Plus, I won’t actually get what I want for it anyway so—don’t worry about it, okay?”

My brothers dropped it at that, with only a minor fight still left. In all honesty, I had completely forgotten as well. Shows how much I actually care about my age. On cases, it seems like the time tends to fly by. Oh, and we managed to save a few people so, in the end, did it really matter anyway? The only other thing I could ask for was to have all my family with me; together and safe. Sam would give up school and maybe he’d bring Jess along on our travels. Dad would be with us. Mom would still be alive. That’s all I wanted—my family.

* * *

 

I felt an ache in my chest when we pulled up to Sam’s apartment building. This was it. Who knows how long it would be until I saw my brother again? I watch sadly as Sam climbed out of the Impala, grabbing his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Maybe we can meet up later, alright?” he offered, trying to ease the mood with a small smile. I managed one back. Dean could only nod in agreement.

“Hey Sam?” Dean said just as Sam began to walk towards his apartment. “We made one hell of a team back there.” Sam sadly agreed. On a last minute move, I stumbled out of the Impala. I ran up to my much taller brother, throwing my arms around his neck tightly. He wrapped his arms around my smaller frame and I felt him grin against my shoulder.

“Bye Sammy, I love you,” I said.

“Goodbye Luce, I love you too. Don’t forget it.” I chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah. Dork.” I pulled away reluctantly and let my brother return to his apartment and to what was his life now. I got back into the car, exchanging a gloomy look with Dean. He grabbed my hand lightly and squeezed, giving me temporary comfort. And with that, we drove away.

* * *

 

Or so we thought.

Dean and I hadn’t been driving for more than a minute when I noticed the smoke pooling around Sam’s house. “Oh my god,” I whispered. And suddenly I was yelling. “Dean, go back now!!”

Everything was a blur to me. We ran into Sam’s apartment. I saw the flames engulfing everything around me. Sam’s girlfriend, Jess, was the source of the flames, a bloody gash across her stomach and burning on the ceiling—the exact same way Dean had described my mother’s death. Sam’s shouting was horrible and heartbreaking as I and Dean tore him away from the danger, dragging him from the apartment against him fighting against us. I latched onto him once we were all out, trying desperately to calm him down. I held him tight as he cried for Jess, and the fire engines approach. The fight in him died.

Eventually, Sam’s screams resided. I helped him stand and together we walked to the Impala. Dean joined us soon after, wearing an expression that can only be described as pity. Dean and I could only wait for Sam to doing anything—say anything. Eventually he did, wearing several emotions on his face, but most of all, determination.

“We’ve got work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, the first chapter is kinda slow due to my dislike of going through complete hunts. But the chapters will get longer and better after this!


	2. I'm Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on. The Winchester siblings make it their mission to find their father, following the hints he leaves them. Their next hunt, however, hits a little close to home.

After Jessica died, Sammy was obviously heartbroken. He tried so hard to hide it away from Dean and me, but his true grief was revealed by the constant nightmares he suffered. I didn’t even wanna know what he dreamt of, I just wanted him to be okay. The whole thing sort of freaked me out too. I mean, it couldn’t have been a coincidence that Jess died the same way my mom died—and on the same date. It just didn’t make sense. But we were the Winchesters. We had to be troopers. And that’s what we did. Following Dad’s journal, my brothers and I were led to different jobs in the area. Our work was cut out for us—the very first one was one of those ugly ass Wendigos! And let me just say, I hope I never have to see one of those dicks again. We saved a woman and her young son just within the next week. We even dealt with this demon with a thing for crashing planes—first demon I’d ever seen. They’re tough little bastards, but watching Dean freak out about flying was worth it.

We learned from a man named Jerry Panowski that he had gotten Dean’s phone number from our Dad’s voicemail. This was huge! Dad must have set his voicemail recently, indicating that he’s at least still alive. Dean dialed his number, and Sam and I stood close to listen into the voicemail.

“It doesn’t make sense. I’ve _called_ his number like 50 times. It’s always been out of service,” Sam said skeptically.

“So have I, Sam,” I shot back. “It’s possible, you know, he could have changed it. That can happen.” Sam narrowed his eyes at me.

“Hey, you two, shut up,” Dean commanded, beckoning us closer to listen.

“’This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. Or my daughter, Lucy. 785-476-1100. They can help.’”

The voicemail stopped, and Dean and I shared a look—a mixture of both surprise and hope. As Sam stopped back into the car, slamming the door shut, I let my relief consume my expression. “He’s alive!” I mused with a small smirk. I playfully patted Dean on the shoulder and stumbled back into the back seat, ready to travel to our next destination—knock out our next job. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly enjoying this. I mean, it was a bit frustrating not knowing where Dad was. But I honestly liked hunting. Just counting the amount of people we, together as a family, had saved—it gave me a rush!

Three months had passed when I finally realized that Dad just didn’t want to be found. That hurt a bit. But I still wanted to look. I figured that we had to eventually find him one way or another, and that was all that was important to me. I wanted—no, I needed my family back together again.

It was March 26th, 2006; Sam, Dean and I had just finished working possibly the worst case I’ve ever experienced. A curse was put upon this land that just happened to be the site of new homes galore. This curse sent the “biblical swarm” of thousands of insects to the Pike family living on that land. This would have been a fine, perfectly “normal” case. Except I can’t stand bugs.

The second I witnessed the massive cloud of bees and a shit ton of other disgusting little things coming right at us, I realized I was living my worst nightmare. “Oh _HELL NO!!_ ” I shouted and bolted inside, taking the 16 year old Matt by the shoulders and ushering him inside. I felt a sort of connection with Matt. He reminded me a lot of Sam. We waited out and fought against the insects until the sun rose, carrying away the curse and the bugs with it. The morning after, we were relieved to see that the Pikes were moving far, far away from the newly built houses.

“Never again,” I stated once we were on the road once more. “Never, ever, ever, again. I never wanna see another bug in my whole life.”

“Not even this one?” Dean asked. It took me less than a second to spot the dead spider he was pushing in my face, and to let out a high pitched scream of terror. Dean burst out laughing, and even Sam—who was giving him a bitchface—couldn’t hold back a chuckle. If he wasn’t driving, I probably would have punched my oldest brother.

“That—was _not_ funny,” I fumed.

“What’s funny is your little insect-o-phobia,” Dean laughed.

“Entomophobia,” Sam corrected.

“Whatever, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Yeah, I’ll remember that the next time we’re on a plane, Mr. ‘Why do you think I drive everywhere’?” I mocked. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Loser,” he muttered after a pause.

“Idiot,” I smiled.

* * *

 

_March 29, 2006_

My eyes fluttered open at the slight movement of mine and Sam’s bed, and the sound of his heavy breathing coming next to me. I flipped over slightly to see Sam sitting straight up, looking absolutely terrified.

“Sammy?” I grumbled. My brother jumped a little before noticing I was awake. “You okay?”

Sam nodded, rubbing his hands over his face. He sure didn’t look okay. “Yeah, Luce, sorry. I’m fine. Just—“

“Was it another nightmare? Sammy, seriously this is—“

“Really,” Sam interrupted, lying back down. “It was nothing. Lucy, I’m fine. I promise.”

I stared at him for a bit longer, unconvinced. “Okay,” I said doubtfully. I rested my head on Sam’s shoulder and eased myself back to sleep.

"All right," Dean started the next morning, “I've been cruising some websites. Think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali. Its crew vanished."

“Sounds fishy to me,” I commented, resting my chin against the back of Dean’s chair.

“That was a terrible pun,” Dean remarked.

“Shut up, I’m hilarious.”

Dean snorted. “And we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas. Hey!” I looked over to where Sam was sitting on the bed, invested in some sort of drawing thing he was doodling. “Are we boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

"No, I'm listening. Keep going," Sam reassured, heading back to his paper.

“Yeah—you look really intrigued, Sam,” I joked sarcastically. Sam glanced up for a split second to roll his eyes at me.

"And here a Sacramento man shot himself in the head," Dean continued, holding up three fingers, “three times.” Sam gave no response. Dean waved the fingers at him in an attempted to get his attention, eventually lowering two fingers so he was only holding up a middle finger. I snorted into my coffee. “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam was silent for a moment, still devoted to the doodles he held in his hands. “Wait, hold on. I’ve seen this before.” I raised my eyebrows as I watched my brother pull out our Dad’s journal and eagerly flip through the pages. Neither Dean nor I said a word as Sam found what he was looking for, an epiphany blooming on his face. “I know where we have to go next,” he declared finally. I motioned for him to continue. “Back home. Back to Kansas."

I felt a start of surprise. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that. “What, why?” I inquired.

“Yeah, seriously, random,” Dean added.

“Um, well…” Sam began, moving closer to where Dean and I sat. “This photo was taken in front of our old house right? The house where mom died?” I examined the picture when Sam set it down on the table. It was an old picture, taken near evening on the day I was born. A 7 year old Dean and a 3 year old Sam all huddled around Mom and Dad, who were holding me. I was just over 16 hours old.

"It didn't burn down completely. They rebuilt it, right?" Sam asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered curiously. I was interested in where he was going with this.

“What the hell are you talking about, Sammy?” Dean asked, sounding much more exasperated than excited. That was understandable. He had the most memories of the house and of Mom.

"Okay, look," Sam started. "This is gonna sound crazy; the people who live in our old house, I think they might be in danger."

"Why would you think that?" Dean asked, while I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Um…I just—you just gotta trust me on this, okay?”

“Trust you? Come on, man, that’s weak,” Dean prompted.

“If there’s something going on, Sammy, you need to tell us,” I said defiantly.

“Look, guys. I just can’t explain it is all,” Sam said.

“Well tough!” Dean shot back, exasperated. “We’re not going anywhere until you do.”

Sam sighed, turning around to face Dean and me. I raised a brow, impatient but concerned. “I have these nightmares,” Sam began. I snorted.

“Yeah, no shit,” I smirked.

“Will you let me finish?” my brother sassed. I beckoned him to continue.

“These dreams…sometimes they come true,” Sam finished. Dean and I shared a glance with each other, similarly skeptical and confused. Typically, my oldest brother and I would have deemed this a supernatural matter and would have taken the victim and locked them away in case they went bat-shit or demonic. So a mere statement like this worried me a bit. From what I’ve seen before, these nightmares were obviously frightening Sam. And maybe this was why. “I, um. I dreamt about Jessica’s death days before it happened.”

“What, you think you had like—like a psychic premonition or something?” I questioned cautiously. Dean let out a soft chuckle.

“No, come on, Luce. Sam, look man, people have weird dreams. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” he countered, sitting on the closest bed. I scoffed.

“Dean, when is shit like this ever a coincidence?” I argued.

“I’m with Lucy on this, Dean. I mean, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything and I didn't do anything because I didn't believe it. And now I'm dreaming about that tree, our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean—our house. That place, that’s where it all started. That’s gotta mean something, right?” Sam inquired.

I stared at my brother, subconsciously gulping. He was right. This could be huge for us. If he was implying what I think he was—if this was truly _it_ —we could end this. We could stop this son of a bitch demon from killing anybody else. Dad would stop searching for it and come back to us. We could all be together again.

“I-I don’t know,” Dean said, overwhelmed. My oldest brother wasn’t thinking the same way I was. I could tell he was scared. I could read him like an open book and he was scared freaking shitless. I grabbed the picture from the table, my gaze falling on upon the soft, cheerful faces of my family members. It was hard for me to imagine that my family was once like this, if only for a short while. Even back then, Dean’s cheeks and nose were scattered with freckles and there was a childlike gap between his teeth. Sam’s dark brown hair reached to his shoulders, much like it did now. Everything about Dad looked younger and happier, the weary lines gone from his face and a content, eased smile on his face. And Mom…Mom was stunning. Her soft blonde hair tumbled down her back and her bright green eyes sparkled with laughter and beauty.

“Sam,” I started, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think this might be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?” Dean stood from the bed, frustrated.

“Alright, just slow down okay, both of you,” Dean interjected. "I mean, first you're telling us that you've got the shining…and then you tell us that we've got to go back home? Especially when…"

He trailed off, seeming to try to collect himself again. He was on the verge of tears. I furrowed my eyebrows, concerned for my brother. “When what?” Sam urged.

“When I swore to myself that I would never go back there.”

I stared at my brother sadly. I understood. He was seven when that night happened—when Mom died. He remembered it the most clearly out of the three of us. I felt truly sorry about that, I couldn’t even imagine what that would have been like to experience. I moved close to Dean and put a comforting hand on his arm.

Sam wore a sympathetic look but continued softly, “Look, we have to check this out. Just to make sure."

Dean laid his hand softly over mine from where it was still grasping his upper arm. He was silent for a long time, before finally answering, “I know we do.” Sam quickly nodded, giving Dean a small smile and began packing the bags we needed. I followed Dean outside to the Impala.

“If you’re really not okay with this, we don’t have to go—“I started.

“No. No, Sam’s right. Freaky shit’s going on, that woman could be in trouble. Kinda our job definition, no matter where,” Dean said, attempting to push aside his emotions. I gave him a small half smile, and wrapped my arms around him. He pulled me close, burying his face in my blonde hair.

“That’s my little trooper,” I teased in a baby voice.

“Shut up,” he grinned. He pulled away and shrugged. “Man, I know you don’t remember anything about that night or anything. Just—be happy for that.” I shifted uncomfortably, attempting a smile.

“Yeah. Right. Lucky me,” I agreed nervously. Sam emerged from the hotel room with our bags, a ready and determined expression on his face. And we were off.

Neither of my brothers knew. Not even my dad knew. It seemed impossible. I mean, I was exactly a day old when my mother died. Born in the early morning hours of November 1, 1986 from right at home. I had less than 2 days with my mom. I wasn’t able to remember certain things I wished I could, like my mother’s face. I could only picture it because of photos Dad carried with him. I didn’t remember my home whatsoever. However, the thing was—I _did_ remember something from that night. Three things, actually.

It should have been impossible to remember at only a day old. But, I remembered the bright orange of the flames along with the blazing heat that emanated from it. That _heat_! It was awful. I remembered the faint outline of a face. And it wasn’t my dad’s, I’m sure of it. The face wasn’t one of evil. In fact, it was—angelic, in a way. Of course, I didn’t have the ability to recall every feature of his face, but I remember it as a kind one. Impossibly, I felt like I could recall his soft voice too. Soothing, with an aura of playfulness. And lastly, I remembered a blinding white light. My dad had told me that I had begun to cry in the middle of the night which is what woke him from his slumber in the downstairs living room. I assumed this was caused by the white light. When I close my eyes sometimes, that’s what I can see. A pure, white, angelic light. And it confused the shit out of me.

* * *

 

There it was. The old house was right in front of me. I gazed at it with interest as my brothers and I pulled up to it. It mirrored the pictures I had seen of it, even after the fire. This is where it all happened. Hey, this place was even where I was born! I should have been terrified, but I was fascinated.

“You gonna be all right, man?” Sam asked Dean. I knew he shared my secret excitement to see the house, but neither of us wanted to express this in front of our older brother.

“Let me get back to you on that,” Dean answered, stepping out of the car. Sam and I followed, approaching the house quickly. Sam knocked on the door and less than a minute later, the door opened to reveal a pretty woman in about her late 20’s.

“Hi Miss, we’re with the federal—“Dean began, before Sam interrupted.

“I’m Sam Winchester. This is my older brother Dean, and my little sister Lucy. We, um, used to live here.” I turn to give my brother a surprised look. We almost never gave out our real names. Dean wasn’t pleased. “You know, we were just driving by, and we were wondering if we could see the old place."

A ghost of an interested smile appeared on the woman’s face. “Winchester,” she repeated. A full smile formed. “You know what’s so funny. I think I found some of your old pictures last night.” My eyes lit up.

“Really?” I said brightly. “Old pictures?” Dean nudged me gently in the side. “Right, sorry.”

The woman looked a bit confused but still smiled. “No, I mean, it seems only right you should take them, it’s no big deal.” I smiled at her. “Oh, sorry…come in. I’m Jenny by the way.” She opened the door wider for us. We stepped through the front door and I immediately took in my surroundings. It seemed like a perfectly normal house. If I didn’t know the history behind it, I would have assumed that.

We were led into the kitchen, where we found two small children; a young, excited little boy and an older girl doing homework at the kitchen table. I didn’t consider myself particularly good with children, but I couldn’t help but smile at the young, adorable siblings.

“That’s Ritchie,” Jenny introduced, smiling at her son’s antics. “He’s kinda a juice junkie. But hey, at least he won’t get scurvy.” She handed him a small juice bottle and moved towards the kitchen table. “I love your sweatshirt, by the way. Sari here’s a big Disney fan herself,” Jenny added, pointing to my grey Disney sweatshirt. I smiled.

“Sari, this is Sam, Dean and Lucy. They used to live here,” Jenny told her daughter. Sari shyly greeted us. In a bit of small talk, we found out that Jenny and her family had just moved to the house from Wichita in need of a fresh start. She explained that the house was having a few issues she assumed was due to its age. Such as rats, flickering lights and a backed up sink. But my brothers and I knew better.

“Mom,” Sari spoke up. “Ask them if it was here when they lived here." That sparked my interest.

“If what lived here, Sari?” I asked softly.

“The thing in my closet," she answered, looking up at me. Her mother shook her head gently.

“No, baby, there was nothing in their closets. Right?” She looked up at us, hoping for the answer she wanted.

"Right, no, of course not," Sam played along. Jenny tried to explain that Sari had a nightmare, but the girl piped up again quickly.

“I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom, and it was on fire!”

My green eyes widened. It couldn’t be. It just fit so perfectly! Sam and I exchanged a shocked and slightly excited look. “It was on fire?” I questioned the little girl. Dean cleared his throat sharply.

“Alright, Sam, Lucy, I think it’s about time we be going. Jenny, thank you for letting us see the house, but I think it’s time for us to hit the hay—we had kinda a long drive.”

“Oh yeah, of course, no problem. Oh, um, do you want your pictures?” Jenny asked, pointing up towards the basement.

“Oh, we’ll just come back for them,” Dean said, before I could get in a word. He bid goodbye to the family for Sam and I and gently ushered us out the door, being as unsuspicious as possible.

"You hear that?" Sam exclaimed once we were outside. "A figure on fire!”

"And that woman Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said. "And you hear what she was talking about—scratching, flickering lights? Both signs of a malevolent spirit."

“This has gotta be it, guys. This has gotta be the thing that killed them. Mom, Jessica, who _knows_ who else!” I cried, rushing in front of my brothers. Sam nodded along enthusiastically, while Dean looked frustrated.

“First off, we don’t know that!” Dean snapped. “It could be something else entirely. And secondly, I’m freaked out that your weirdo visions are coming true.” Sam ignored the comment.

“Forget that—what’s most important is that those people are in danger and we need to get them out of there!” Sam declared.

“And we will,” Dean sighed. I could sense he was getting more exasperated by the second. As anxious and excited as I was, I took my oldest brother’s feelings into consideration and tried to calm Sam a bit as he argued.

“No, I mean now!”

“Well she sure as hell won’t believe us if we tell her the truth. I guess we just kinda got to think about this for a second,” I reasoned. The three of us fell silent. Sam nodded, giving in.

“Alright. So,” Sam started, opening the passenger side door, “let’s think.” I shared a look with Dean, and we both popped into our respective seats. I watched the house fade from view as Dean drove away.


End file.
